


Flowers

by doridoripawaa



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/F, Flowers, Fluff, LGBT, Sapphic, Summer, let them be happy, wlw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:49:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24882589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doridoripawaa/pseuds/doridoripawaa
Summary: Petra has a surprise for Dorothea.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Petra Macneary
Comments: 4
Kudos: 50





	Flowers

Not even the heat, light, and intensity of standing on center stage could compare to the fierce beams from the Brigid summer sun.

"Petra, darling," Dorothea panted, gently raising her arm up to wipe sweat from her brow, "I know I said that I want nothing more than to see Brigid with you, and that's still true," she added quickly, knowing that Petra had a tendency to take her words very literally, "but _where_ exactly in Brigid are we headed?" If anything, the fact that Petra did not always understand her humor was what made Dorothea exceptionally worried today. Did she think that Dorothea wanted to see every inch of the country?

"We are almost arriving," Petra reassured her. She suddenly stopped in her tracks, and then she glanced back to cast Dorothea a concerned look. "Are you needing water or shelter?"

"Oh, Petra, you know just how tough I am," Dorothea laughed, and she raised her bicep as if her to make her point. However, the teasing smile on her face quickly dissipated when Petra raised her own bicep beside hers for comparison. "Hey, now, I'm a sorceress!" Dorothea huffed, but the laughter in her eyes still remained. "I'm tough on the inside, where it counts."

Petra nodded slowly, mulling over Dorothea's words very carefully and calculatedly. "Yes, you are having much strength. You can fight with the power of one hundred Brigid shamans."

Dorothea felt heat rising to her face, and as much as she wanted to attribute it to their seemingly endless trek through the Brigid forest, uphill, during the summer, she had a feeling that the real reason was something far less physical and far more... sentimental. "I wouldn't say th-" she began, but the feeling of a firm finger against her lips effectively cut her off. "Mmm?"

"We are- we have arrived," Petra murmured, and she blinked slowly at Dorothea. "Are you ready?"

Dorothea could not help but think that Petra reminded her of a kitten, blinking to show her affection in a way more powerful than any words could hope to express. "Take me away, my queen."

Petra tilted her head to the side, seemingly perplexed. "I have already taken you," she murmured. "We have already arrived." She just shrugged off her confusion, though, and ran her hand down Dorothea's lips to her chin, before sweeping her hand all the way down Dorothea's (sweaty) arm to grasp the songstress's soft, thin fingers in her own hardened, scarred ones. "Close your eyes. I will be leading you."

Dorothea raised an eyebrow, but nevertheless she obeyed. Petra was not one to pull pranks, so whatever sight awaited them must have certainly been worth the day's travel. She stepped forward blindly, allowing Petra to guide her footsteps, and all of a sudden, the shadows that had covered the sky gave way to a blinding light.

Dorothea did not know what she expected to see, but she knew that in her wildest dreams, she never could have conjured up an illusion as beautiful as the scene that greeted her when her eyelids fluttered open.

"P-Petra," she breathed, and her grip on the Brigid queen's hand tightened. "This is..."

The trees had parted to reveal a meadow, and that meadow was lined perfectly by a ring of tall oak and maple trees, their leaves glittering green underneath the twinkling, brilliant sunlight. More dazzling, however, was the array of flowers that danced in the gentle breeze and shone in every color of the rainbow. Roses, daisies, sunflowers, peonies... Dorothea hadn't even noticed that her breath had caught in her throat until Petra suddenly smacked her on the back.

"Are you okay?" Petra asked, her voice lined with concern. "Your face was becoming blue." Her eyes flickered back and forth between the flower field and Dorothea, and her voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "Are you not liking it? Is it not, to you... pleasing?" The discomfort was rolling off of her in waves.

Dorothea quickly raised her hands up to her face. "Oh, dearest, that could not be farther from the truth!" she insisted. She then reached forward to grab both of Petra's hands in her own. "It's so beautiful. I love it so much that I could not speak... or breathe, apparently."

"You were, how do they say, speechless?" Petra asked, her head perking up.

"Yes!" Dorothea laughed. "Exactly!"

"That is... a relief," Petra admitted, and a sheepish smile crept onto her cocoa-colored lips. "You are very precious to me. I am only wanting for you to smile."

Now it was Dorothea's turn to be flustered. A line like that, coming from Sylvain, would probably have led her to punch him in the gut. However, hearing them from Petra, she could tell that these words were as sweet and sincere as Petra herself and that they came directly from her heart. "Would you care to show me the different flowers in the field?"

"It would be my delight," Petra exclaimed, and she whipped around so fast that her magenta-colored ponytail nearly smacked Dorothea in the face. Even if she had taken a braid-induced bruise, however, Dorothea could not imagine anything possibly ruining this moment. Time alone with Petra, in her beloved homeland, with a huge grin upon her face and a skip in her step.

Petra herself was a flower. A blooming sunflower, kept in the dark for so long, but now that the war had ended and she had taken her rightful place as Brigid's queen, she had room to blossom.

Much to Dorothea's surprise, Petra actually was able to identify every flower in the field. "Is this just a stray field, or is it a garden?" Dorothea asked, her curiosity getting the best of her. "You know so much about every flower here that I can't help but wonder if you planted them all."

"It is being both," Petra answered as she plucked a carnation from the ground. "My mother and I found this field, and then my mother was planting more flowers to make it beautifuler."

Suddenly, she narrowed her eyes at Dorothea. The brunette took a step back, admittedly caught off guard by the queen's abrupt change in demeanor. "P-Petra? Is there something on my face?" she guessed. She felt herself melting beneath Petra's bronze gaze, more stunning and severe than any metal she had ever encountered. Petra took a step forward, and despite herself, Dorothea's instincts urged her to step back. _That_ was bound to insult her.

Petra, on the other hand, did not seem concerned by Dorothea's withdrawal. She just stepped forward again, and in one quick, fluid motion she thrust the flower behind Dorothea's ear, nestled within her bouncy brown curls. "Perfect," Petra whispered, and her warm breath tickled Dorothea's nose. 

Instinct took over again as Dorothea began to lean into Petra's face, but the huntress stepped back again before Dorothea could make her move. What exactly had gotten _into_ the sorceress today? Being flustered was so unusual for her; usually, she was the one toying around with others! Why did Petra have this effect on her?

"Petra," Dorothea whispered as realization dawned upon her, and Petra lifted her gaze from a cluster of hyacinths to Dorothea's face. "Do you know what time of year it is?"

Petra tilted her head, sending her dark pink locks cascading down her broad shoulders. "Summer," she answered simply. "Brigid summer is stronger than Fodlan. Is it being too hot for you?" she asked.

"I'm fine," Dorothea assured her quickly. "I mean, do you know what month it is?"

"It is the Twin Moon," Petra answered. "Wait, no, that is the Brigid moon. In Fodlan, it is... Garland Moon..." Her voice trailed off, and judging from the light that flashed across her eyes, she had come to the same realization as Dorothea.

"Let's gather some flowers and make garlands," Dorothea suggested, and Petra nodded fervently. "I think this is the perfect place to do it."

The perfect place for the perfect proposition.

* * *

"Petra!" Dorothea gasped as she plopped onto an empty patch of grass beside the queen. "Where did you find all of those?" Petra must have been carrying eight or nine different types of flowers in her arms. Dorothea began to feel rather silly with her bundle of only two kinds of flowers, but she had enough experience weaving garlands that her assortment should still be enough to please Petra.

"Well," Petra stated, as she carefully began to knot two stems together, "I am knowing this field like the hand of my back."

"You mean the back of your hand?" Dorothea corrected her, chuckling softly. "I guess you would." She began to fiddle with her own flowers, and suddenly she noticed the stark difference in size between her two selections. "I may need more stems," she muttered.

"You can borrow some of mine," Petra offered. "I probably am taking too many," she admitted, and a soft blush crept onto her face. "But I am being careful in my choosing. You see," she began, and she swept up a red rose in her hand. "This is Edelgard. She is beautiful but has thorns like a rose." She then picked up a blue hyacinth. "This is Caspar. It is being an energetic, playful flower." She shuffled over to sweep up some sweet peas. "Bernadetta is a sweet pea. She is being very sweet. I wish I had carnivorous flower for her," she muttered, and Dorothea couldn't help but laugh at that.

"Is that one Ferdinand?" she guessed, pointing to a bright orange flower.

"Yes, this is orange orchid for orange Ferdinand," Petra told her, nodding in approval. "You are having a good eye." She then picked up some red windflowers. "Black center, like Hubert," she explained. "But also beautiful." Finally, she picked up a handful of poppies and a handful of irises.

"Lindhart, because he's always sleeping," Dorothea guessed. "I recognize those flowers. And I guess the iris is for the professor?" Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a couple of other types of flowers on the other side of Petra. "What about us?" she asked innocently. "About... me?" There was that stupid embarrassment rising up again.

"Iris is Professor because she is wise," Petra confirmed. "I am... I am wanting to know what flower I would be," she murmured. "I am wanting to ask you, Dorothea." She turned away, presumably to look back at her flower crown, but Dorothea could not help but wonder if the queen was feeling a little timid.

Dorothea sat for a moment and simply watched Petra weave the flowers and stems together, carefully preserving their petals, plucking leaves where appropriate but leaving some standing for aesthetic value. Those hands were so strong; Dorothea had seen them wield swords and axes, stab enemies and skin prey, but they were also so delicate, so careful, so precise. _'What else can those fingers do?'_ she couldn't help but wonder, and the mere thought made her turn as red as the rose in Petra's hands. Immediately she shifted her attention back to her own garland.

"I think," she began. "I think you are a sunflower. You stand tall, bright, and beautiful in the Brigid sun. You always point to the sun, leading others there. Leading me there." The brunette smiled softly as she stuck a sunflower into her garland. "Would you like one of my sunflowers?"

Petra slowly raised her head, eyeing Dorothea cautiously. "I am... a sunflower?" she echoed. "I... am appreciating your kind words," she murmured. Gingerly she reached over to pull one of Dorothea's sunflowers from her pile. "Why are you picking lilies?" she asked.

"Why did you pick tulips?" Dorothea countered, finally able to spot the bundle of flowers hiding on the other side of Petra's thighs.

"Dorothea..." Petra began, and then she paused. Was she sweating, or was that Dorothea's own sweat dripping into her eyes? "Dorothea is being a tulip, because Dorothea..." She was clearly struggling with her last couple of words. "Because tulips are pretty, and Dorothea's two lips are pretty."

"M-my? Two... lips?" Dorothea could feel her bottom jaw slacken. "Petra, dearest, did you just make a _pun_ in _Fodlan language_?"

"Did I be doing it wrong?" Petra asked, suddenly looking very alarmed. "On your face. Those are calling lips, yes? And you are having two, yes?"

"Petra," Dorothea laughed, and suddenly she just broke out into uproarious laughter. All of her nervous energy just melted into giggles and grins, and she couldn't help but feel horrible about how much she was probably confusing Petra right now. "Yes... Do you know why I chose lilies?" she asked at last, stifling her last snickers. "Lilies are the flowers that a girl gives a girl when... when she wants to kiss her two lips." She raised her finished garland up to the sun, and she smiled softly as the whites and yellows of her flowers sparkled in the light. "Will you take my garland, Petra? Will you... be my girlfriend, Petra?"

An exchange of garlands. An exchange of laughter. An exchange of two lips onto two lips.

Not even the heat, light, and intensity of the Brigid sun could compare to the warmth and radiance blossoming inside Dorothea's heart that day.


End file.
